halschrieve's review against another edition
3.0
John Rechy's character's name is John Rechy, and he's a young gay Mexican-American author, and he's been whisked away by the rich, playboy-ish Paul to a quiet, beautiful island with Paul's lover and fourteen-year-old son. If this were a Delany novel, we'd know where this was going, and it isn't outside the realm of possibility-- there are a lot of debauched stories of sexual violence and desire in this book. But Rechy's auto-narrator is, for the most part, just the audience to these tales. Rich, abusive, controlling Paul describes his misogynistic rage and desire for power, and young Rechy (the book is set in the 1960s) quietly absorbs and considers the way that Paul imagines he and Rechy are alike, projecting his own violence and history of abuse against his lovers onto Rechy. Rechy considers the ways that ostensibly straight men use him and his own life as an excuse, or a naturalization, for their own behavior. The best scenes are when Paul speaks at length, making incorrect assumptions about Rechy's beliefs and behaviors, and reveals things about himself that are inescapably pathetic, repulsive, and tragic, and Rechy listens and pretends at a modicum of fraternity, but occasionally surprising Paul with how much sensitivity, desire and knowledge of culture Paul can't see. Young Rechy in this book is just coming to terms with the way his engagement with sexuality is a method to push away longing, intimacy, and vulnerability-- now he sees someone with that problem amplified a thousandfold holding forth on the strategies he possesses for violence and teaching his son to be the same.
This is a melodramatic book (Rechy), and one in which none of the central characters reach a great deal of self reflection, escape their circumstances, or even really confront each other. It feels like a relatively campy, quiet film about rich people, but I enjoy Rechy's joy at exposing the misery of powerful people. It's one note, but it's a good one.
There are a lot of cocktails and beach descriptions in this.
This is a melodramatic book (Rechy), and one in which none of the central characters reach a great deal of self reflection, escape their circumstances, or even really confront each other. It feels like a relatively campy, quiet film about rich people, but I enjoy Rechy's joy at exposing the misery of powerful people. It's one note, but it's a good one.
There are a lot of cocktails and beach descriptions in this.
rileymcg's review against another edition
dark
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
3.0
lucaconti's review against another edition
3.0
Disappointing. It starts like a intriguing mind game but at one point it starts to get boring. The resolution sounds very artificial and lousy. I didn't buy it at all.
catdad77a45's review against another edition
4.0
I read quite a few of Rechy's early semi-autobiographical works (his classic 'City of Night', 'Numbers', 'Rushes' and 'The Sexual Outlaw') back in the early 70's, and was somewhat surprised to learn he's not only still alive (he's almost 86, despite an incorrect birthdate on GR!), but still publishing controversial work. He bills this as a 'true fiction', and indeed, the narrator is a young 24 year old writer/hustler named .... John Rechy! Supposing, then, that this is based on an actual incident lends the story even more intrigue, and if it weren't for the sexually graphic climax (no pun intended!), would make an excellent film in the right hands. Short and concentrated, the book gains power as it goes along - but one thing that drove me crazy is the affectation that both Paul and John call each other 'man' incessantly, which although a 60's 'thing', gives their dialogue a slightly camp and fusty air.
gerhard's review against another edition
4.0
Henry James is not a writer one would normally associate with John Rechy, due to the latter’s predilection for cum-spattered sex scenes that push the boundaries of torridness, not to mention what is physically possible between human bodies (rarely less than two; Rechy is a true disciple of polymorphous perversity).
And yet this latest novel from the 86-year-old author is very Jamesian in its subtle and discerning focus on the inter-dynamics of a group of people on an island retreat. The one, a wealthy patron of the arts, has invited a ‘struggling writer’ (by the name of John Rechy) to partake of a lifestyle he has only read about … And yet what are the true motives behind the invitation, given the patron’s fraught relationship with women in particular?
Susan Straight writes in The LA Times:
Rechy, the writer, has since the earliest in his long career given readers that hour, the dusk and twilight and melding when people change their natures, and I marvel that he continues to write with such elegance and lyricism, descending into raw scenes of human longing and violence.
Make no mistake about it, this is no typical Jamesian foray into mores and morals. There is a running riff about the nature and dichotomy of evil, interwoven with complex speculation about the (un)reliability of memory versus ‘truth’, and the subsequent impact this has on the autobiographical enterprise (the book is subtitled ‘A True Fiction’, which is a fitting epitaph to the magnificence of Rechy’s philosophical enquiry here).
Rechy was one of the first gay writers I ever read … mainly for the graphic sex scenes, I blush to admit. However, this latest fiercely intelligent and intellectually daring book from such an iconic writer, in the ‘blue hour’ of his own life and career, is a superb testament to his skill as a writer.
And yet this latest novel from the 86-year-old author is very Jamesian in its subtle and discerning focus on the inter-dynamics of a group of people on an island retreat. The one, a wealthy patron of the arts, has invited a ‘struggling writer’ (by the name of John Rechy) to partake of a lifestyle he has only read about … And yet what are the true motives behind the invitation, given the patron’s fraught relationship with women in particular?
Susan Straight writes in The LA Times:
Rechy, the writer, has since the earliest in his long career given readers that hour, the dusk and twilight and melding when people change their natures, and I marvel that he continues to write with such elegance and lyricism, descending into raw scenes of human longing and violence.
Make no mistake about it, this is no typical Jamesian foray into mores and morals. There is a running riff about the nature and dichotomy of evil, interwoven with complex speculation about the (un)reliability of memory versus ‘truth’, and the subsequent impact this has on the autobiographical enterprise (the book is subtitled ‘A True Fiction’, which is a fitting epitaph to the magnificence of Rechy’s philosophical enquiry here).
Rechy was one of the first gay writers I ever read … mainly for the graphic sex scenes, I blush to admit. However, this latest fiercely intelligent and intellectually daring book from such an iconic writer, in the ‘blue hour’ of his own life and career, is a superb testament to his skill as a writer.
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